


15 Ways to Break a Heart

by Orion Arthur Rietveld (ameowicafjones)



Series: 15 Ways [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Child Abandonment, Colonial Canada, FACE Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Panic Attacks, Parent-Child Relationship, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameowicafjones/pseuds/Orion%20Arthur%20Rietveld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since Madeleine became a French colony, and since then, she's grown very close to Francis. Unfortunately, things change quickly, and the next thing she knows, she's been left in the care of another country without a single explanation from the man she considered her father.</p><p>As Madeleine struggles to understand why she was abandoned, Arthur attempts to make things right. But the damage that's been done is irreversible, and Madeleine only falls further into the pain of loss and self-blame. Not even time can heal some wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	15 Ways to Break a Heart

_One._  
What did I do wrong?  
I didn’t get it. Why was he leaving me now? Why wasn’t I good enough anymore? He took me in, told me he cared, became my father…  
And for what? Just to give me away like this?  
Apparently, I should have been a better daughter.  
 _Two._  
At least I wasn’t completely at a loss. This was hardly paradise, but I’d lived in worse conditions. Arthur, my new caretaker, was nice enough, but he was much too stuffy for a free spirit such as myself, and he was often busy with business I didn’t particularly care for. But even if Arthur and I had been a perfect match, I wouldn’t have cared.  
After all, I was just his colony, wasn’t I? He’d stay for a while, and then he’d hand me off to someone else. I was temporary.  
I was always temporary.  
 _Three._  
There is an advantage to knowing that no one plans on keeping you in their life for more than a couple of centuries--an insignificant speck of time when you live like we do. It was a lot easier to retreat into myself knowing that the people I wanted to care about my existence wouldn’t in just a short period of time. Perhaps I shouldn’t have fallen into my thoughts quite so often. Perhaps I should have kept myself busy doing something else. But I wanted answers.   
So I spent my hours in the window seat in my room, scouring my memories for anything that might explain why I was here with Arthur instead of with Papa.  
This led me to find many small details, reasons I hadn’t been the best daughter, but nothing worthy of giving me away.  
I went over the same memories over and over, trying to understand, trying to find the answers.  
Why didn’t he give me answers?  
 _Four._  
“Madeleine, darling, why don’t you come downstairs and have tea with me? You haven’t eaten all day.”  
Arthur stood in my doorway, concern flooding his features.  
It was true. I hadn’t felt like eating at all since I moved in with Arthur, but that didn’t mean I didn’t need to.  
“Alright,” I said as I stood up. I crossed the room to join him, and together, we walked down to the dining room.   
At first, we ate in silence. I didn’t have anything I wanted to say, and Arthur was too busy casting worried glances in my direction to actually speak.   
Eventually, he decided he should say something. “Madeleine, is something wrong?”  
“You mean other than the fact that my father gave me away to another country without any explanation or warning? No, of course not.”  
“Madeleine, Francis--”  
“Just… let’s not talk about him, okay? I’m fine. It’s… well, I mean, I _am_ just a colony, right? Property, really. Just like Antonio always said.”  
“Antonio saw you as a slave. Francis saw you as a daughter. He didn’t give you away, Madeleine. He left you in my care. There’s a difference.”  
“Left me in your care? Like you’re babysitting, yes? Then when’s he coming back for me?”  
Arthur didn’t answer, looking down at his plate.  
“Right,” I mumbled. “That’s what I thought.” I finished my food, then went back upstairs.  
 _Five._  
I was tired. The kind of tired sleep couldn’t really cure. But I changed into my nightgown and crawled into bed anyway. I lay there for a long time, hugging my bear tight to my chest. The bear he’d given me to help with my nightmares. It had worked back then. Before my nightmares involved him. Now the bear made things worse. I slept with it anyway.  
 _Six._  
Arthur came in to check on me at least ten times in the night. Twice, because he heard me sobbing after waking up from a bad dream and came to comfort me. Three times, he stood in the doorway for several minutes, seemingly crying (I could tell because he would sniffle every once in a while,) before saying he was sorry and leaving again. I didn’t understand what he was apologising for. Four times, he stuck his head in for a few seconds, then left. Once, he attempted to defend Papa, without actually explaining anything. I told him I didn’t want to hear any of it.  
The next day, I didn’t feel like sitting at my window, or being around Arthur, or staying in the big, stuffy house in which I was currently residing. So I wrote a note for Arthur and left it where I usually sat, in plain sight, then snuck out of the house. I left town. I didn’t care to be around all the people. I didn’t go far. Just far enough to feel like it was just me and the trees, without any of the other people. I remembered the days when I wouldn’t have to sneak away. Papa used to take me outside of the settlement all the time, because he knew I loved it.   
I sat and let the memories of our times by the river banks flood over me. Tears streamed down my face, watering the grass.  
 _Seven._  
Eventually, Arthur found me and brought me home, telling me that I shouldn’t have wandered off, and that he’d panicked when he realised I was gone.  
I told him that I knew very well what I was doing.  
He told me that didn’t mean I couldn’t get hurt. Another memory from the river bank emerged. The first.   
I told him I knew and returned to my window.  
 _Eight._  
Two days after Papa left, Arthur told me that it would get easier in a matter of days. Two weeks had passed since then, and things had only seemed to get worse.  
I tried once more to find something I’d done wrong. Anything. Over and over and over, for hours on end, until the tears started flowing, and my nails started digging into my skin, and still I continued after that point, until Arthur found me weak and half-conscious, blood running from scratches on my arms and face. I didn’t remember giving them to myself.  
He told me I had been sobbing and shouting.  
I didn’t remember that either.  
 _Nine._  
Arthur carried me to his room, then cleaned and bandaged my wounds, whispering soothing words as he did so. He told me that he wanted me to stay with him until I felt better, because he didn’t want me to get hurt again.  
I didn’t believe he really cared, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue.  
 _Ten._  
The next morning, Arthur had to practically drag me out of bed. I didn’t want to get up. He made me get up anyway.  
I ate breakfast slowly, not paying attention to what it was that I was eating.  
After breakfast, Arthur took me to the spot he’d found me the day before, surely assuming that it would help me feel better.  
Upon arriving at the spot, tears began to fall from my eyes and I asked him to take me back home.  
 _Eleven._  
For the rest of the day, Arthur read a book while I stared at the ceiling and tried not to let the tears come again. At some point, he put his book down and cradled me in his arms.  
“Francis loves you so much, Madeleine. He still does. Sometimes things happen that are out of people’s control, and you have to live with that. If he could’ve kept you, he would’ve.”  
“If he really wanted me to stay,” I replied, the tears returning now, “then he would’ve fought harder.”  
 _Twelve._  
Arthur didn’t have an argument. Instead, he just said, “I’m sorry,” in the same tone he had the night he kept checking on me.  
“For what?” I asked.  
“One day you’ll understand,” he said, “but the time isn’t right.”  
“Right,” I said. “Another adult keeping things from me. Just what I needed.”  
 _Thirteen._  
Arthur tried to argue that at least Papa had left me in the care of someone who wanted the best for me.  
I asked him what the best for me was.  
Happiness, he told me.  
I reminded him that I only stopped being happy when I arrived at his house.  
He had to leave the room for a while.  
 _Fourteen._  
When Arthur returned, I apologised.  
He told me it was alright, and that he didn’t blame me for being unhappy and distrusting.  
I thanked him, and then we sank back into silence.  
Conversations with Papa floated through my head. Snippets of things that might not have felt significant all that time ago.  
And then, just one phrase, repeating itself, driving me to a point of heartbreak further than I had been to yet.  
 _I’ll always be right here for you, my sweet Madeleine. Always._  
The biggest lie of all.  
 _Fifteen._  
“Can I… can I just have some time to myself in my room? I need to think.”  
Arthur studied me for a moment before letting his features soften. “I suppose so. I’ll come check on you in a bit.”  
I got up and went upstairs, knowing very well that this wasn’t likely to be a solution.  
But Papa had let go. Maybe I needed to let go of something too.  
I closed my door, then opened my desk drawer, carefully removing the hard metal shape wrapped in fine cloth.  
For emergencies, Papa had said. At the time, I’m sure he meant that it was to be used to defend myself if ever the need arose, but I saw this particular situation as an emergency.  
I sat down on my bed and undid the wrappings, tears streaming down my face. I was scared. But I didn’t stop myself.  
Taking a shaky breath, I held the gun to my stomach. The only place I could bring myself to put the barrel.  
And I pulled the trigger.  
I fell backwards, pain overtaking my system. Panic. I couldn’t breathe right.  
The door flung open. “Madeleine? Madeleine… no…”  
Arthur’s face, tears flowing, scared.   
And then, for the first time, but not the last, I died.


End file.
